


You Can Tell Our Whole Empire

by NonbinaryHylian (chicagoartnerd)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Competence Kink, Competency, Emotionally Repressed, M/M, Matchmaking, Mentions of Rape, Mentions of enslavement, Multi, Mutual Pining, Political Alliances, Spark Sexual Interfacing, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Threesome - M/M/M, Transformers Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, Transformers Spark Bonds, the Quintessons are bad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-05-20 15:05:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19379146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicagoartnerd/pseuds/NonbinaryHylian
Summary: Cyclonus fails the purpose he was resurrected for. Unicron is destroyed by the Matrix and Optimus Prime instead of remaking Megatron and the Decepticons in his image. There will be no Galvatron or Unmaker for him to serve and fight for against the Quintessons.Instead of giving into despair he tries to forge a new path forward.The only way to win now is to unite all Cybertronians under one banner. Easier said than done. Cyclonus has a few interesting ideas about how to push Optimus Prime and Megatron to make peace.





	1. Unmade

He had failed so spectacularly his processor couldn’t even fathom a word for it.

Cyclonus was sitting in an Autobot holding cell trying not to fry his own circuits in his distress. He had failed the one task he was forged for, failed it in such an explosive manner, he found himself adrift in his grief/confusion/remorse. It was supremely overwhelming. The panic had seized his spark almost immediately when they bridged into Unicron’s core and he realized the mechanism in his arms was in fact not Megatron. In the flare and fire of the battlefield, he had reached out for him as he fought with...the Prime.

It had only taken a brief moment for Unicron to reach out an angry bolt of raw energy towards Optimus Prime. Then disaster.

Primus and Unicron did battle in a beam of heavy purple and blue light. A massive swirling of powerful divine energies, the battle lasted both an eternity and a single flicker of his spark. The Matrix won of course, destroying Unicron and sending he and Optimus Prime into the void of space with a horrifyingly silent pop. Cyclonus was awake but he feigned being knocked out by the blast simply so he wouldn’t have to look at Optimus Prime as he scooped him up from the debris into his arms. They waited in the terrible silence together, he had his field clamped down under his plating but some of his anguish must of have surfaced because the Prime tightened his hold on him. The gesture had no right to make him feel safe though it did.

Cyclonus had done something unforgivable, destroying both his masters in one fell incompetent miscalculation. He wasn’t even sure why he still functioned. It would have been a blessing and a mercy to be offlined along with Unicron in his destruction. He supposed that was why he still existed, it was a deep punishment. He hadn’t deserved to join his master in oblivion.

The Prime had comm’d his mechs and they had delivered him back to their base on Earth. After their medic Ratchet did a cursory check of his systems, found them bafflingly advanced though functional, they had put him in this cell. No one had tried to bother him since. He might not have noticed if they had.

His processor and spark were in turmoil. Sharp edged emotions of disarray and a spark deep withering self-hatred. It was his misstep that had doomed them all. Unicron would have remade the people, reforged them into warriors capable of standing up to their old enslavers. Galvatron would have been the best of them, the mech he was made to serve.

Now he would never be and all the remaining Cybertronians would become slaves of the Quintesson Empire. There were no words for the failure of dooming your entire species to death and enslavement. Not even one nearly vile enough to fit him in this moment.

Yet he was still himself. There was nothing else he could be. Unicron had forged him with a tactical mind, deadly rational and reasoning packed inside a battleborne frame. As Galvatron’s second he would have helped him command the legions of his people to victory over their oldest foe. He had seen it like a light in his mind as Unicron resurrected him. That was what he was designed to do. So now even as all that he knew, all that he believed himself to be, was destroyed he couldn’t stop planning. The scenarios in which they might somehow glean a narrow victory spun up in his HUD.

He needed to contact Megatron.

He had appeared in the Decepticon ranks claiming to be from a far off outpost of theirs called Chaar several months ago. His body had been from Chaar so it wasn’t a complete fabrication, it was much easier to tell a falsehood if it contained a portion of the truth.

Cyclonus had distinguished himself almost immediately. First for his body, which contained technology the likes of which the Decepticons had never seen in a Cybertronian. Scrapper and Hoist had been enamored almost immediately, begging Megatron to let them experiment and dissect bits of him. Thankfully Megatron hadn’t given him over to the less than tender mercies of the medical science department.

Next he was noticed for his mind. He held respect for each and every member of the army, which appeared to be exceedingly rare. Cyclonus conducted himself professionally, he corrected weakness and discontent with a neutral, fair hand. He was thoughtful and measured in his responses. Things that almost no Decepticon, besides Soundwave, on board exemplified. It made him an object of fascination, both good and bad. He had to demonstrate that just because he was even tempered for the most part did not mean he was weak. The Stunticons had learned that the hard way, fortunately they only had to be given that lesson once.

Finally his prowess on the battlefield was revealed. He had gone toe to toe with Superion and won, completely throwing the gestalt’s partners apart into an exhausted heap. Megatron himself often had difficulty going one on one against combiners, yet Cyclonus had done it in a series of quick elegant loops between the gestalt’s legs. He sliced into all five of their transformation seams, his purple energy sword slipping into their locking mechanisms. They had jolted into their separate forms and crumpled to the ground as Cyclonus knocked them further away from each other in a whirl of shrieking blades.

Megatron called the retreat after that as the Combaticons had already secured and transported the energon they had come to steal. For that Cyclonus was promoted to lieutenant. He hadn’t expected to move up into the ranks of the officers so quickly although his end goal was to gain Megatron’s trust. He would need it to lure him into the core of Unicron so that he could become his lord Galvatron. Cyclonus knew it wouldn’t be easy but he hoped that by being the best tactician he could be he might gain enough of it to simply be able to take his hand. That was all the contact he needed to activate the return space bridge into the depths of the planet sized being. Unicron was counting on him, had made him to succeed in this task. 

And he hadn’t.

The Decepticons might eventually bargain with the Prime to free him. He hadn’t been there long but overall he believed he was viewed favorably or at least valuably. But by then it would arguably be too late.

If they were to stand any chance of defeating the Quintessons they would have to unite both factions and work together. There was no other way to do it now. The question was how to do it. So many steps and paths and trails formed before him and he chased them each feverishly. Hitting dead ends like slamming into solid steel walls in his jet mode. Starting the simulations hurriedly over and over. He went relentlessly, chasing a future outcome where they wouldn’t all perish in agony.

Cyclonus hadn’t realized he had locked up, his frame overheating as he pushed and pushed. Steam roiled off his plating as coolant beaded up there and evaporated in a hiss. This was his purpose. The ultimate one, beyond even Galvatron and Unicron himself, was to save the Cybertronian race from destruction.

Suddenly he knew that the first stone to be laid down on that path was Optimus Prime.

How could he convince him to reach out to Megatron in armistice? What would it take for both of them to make peace with 4 million years of animosity and distrust and join together their people? Was it even possible, and if it was which way had the highest instance of success? The problem he kept butting up against was twofold, Autobot’s overactive sense of compassion and morality, and Decepticon’s spiky individualism and distrust of everyone including themselves. Every time his tried to placate one of them in his strategies the other side slotted into place and disrupted the entire thought tree. It was like trying to fight the rain by attacking individual droplets. He could not see the solution for all that he was sopping wet.

He knew the most immediate step in that dance though. Cyclonus needed to tell Optimus Prime all that he knew. All that he was. In order to gain any goodwill from him he needed to tell the truth, the absolute whole of it.

He would have to wall off a fractured piece of himself to do it, the part screaming at him that he had already fallen so low as to be worthless, he had failed, he was nothing. There was no room for that whining part of him anymore.

Cyclonus had never concerned himself with his own desires beyond those to serve Galvatron and Unicron, now that they were both dead he had to reorient himself. He knew that a new core belief had to be plugged into his deepest mind, his core structures. The belief that rose bright and terrible before him was that he must do everything in his power to save as many Cybertronians as possible from the Quintessons. It was the only way he could begin to atone for his failure. He would give his life and every other piece of himself to this cause if he had to.

His wiring was scorched when this new mandate slid into place and his red optics sizzled to life as Ratchet came barging in the door to yell at him about overclocking his systems. He used several amusing oaths Cyclonus was hoping he’d remember later. But with his new purpose for existing asserting itself almost over his sub-systems all of his panic slipped away. It was replaced by the beautifully cool embrace of logic, delineated purely flowing thought. He no longer felt like he was fighting his very nature to continue to function. Once his systems switched over to their new classifications his frame cooled immediately. Ratchet looked at him, checking to make sure his stasis cuffs were still working, before murmuring suspiciously about it being a trick to get him to come in here.

As he moved away from him Cyclonus spoke, his voice a strained rasp. “I need to speak to Optimus Prime. It is a matter of grave importance.”

Ratchet raised a brow ridge at him and then continued to grumble angrily as he left. Cyclonus tried to straighten his spinal strut and winced, he had burnt through the edges of his sensor net. Now that he knew that though he could manage the expectations of his pain and push through it. There were somethings that were so painful they would white out his consciousness but this was not one of them. As long as he was capable of control over his thoughts and emotions he could weather any pain or anguish. Even this.

Some time passed before the Prime entered his cell. He looked down at Cyclonus, obviously assessing him. He kept his expression neutral and open, his field broadcasting his willingness to cooperate.

This must have been enough to sway Optimus Prime because he crossed his arms over his windshield and addressed him in his deep rumbling baritone. “I assume this grave matter is related to why you teleported me into the core of Unicron. I must admit I’m curious as to your reasoning for doing so myself.”

Cyclonus ex-vented slowly. He could do this. His own feelings of failure and inadequacy didn’t matter, it was of the utmost importance that he tell the Prime everything. No matter how shameful.

He started at the beginning. Cyclonus explained his creation, the mission ingrained in his resurrected CNA, why Unicron made and sent him to Megatron. The future he had been shown of Galvatron, leading an army of their reborn people to defeat the Quintesson Empire. How all he needed to do was lure Megatron into the heart of Unicron, then how he had accidentally grabbed Optimus on the battlefield instead. His shame, his panic, and his strut deep despair. Cyclonus then carefully explained to him his new purpose, leaving out how he was aiming to achieve it. Simply that his deepest desire was to see their species spared the horror of Quintesson enslavement and to thrive. He ended his confession by expressing his intentions to help Optimus Prime negotiate a ceasefire with Megatron and the Decepticons.

There was an awkwardly long pause after he stopped speaking. When the Prime responded he sounded overwhelmed. “Although I shouldn’t take you at your word, I do believe you Cyclonus. This is, quite frankly, a lot to process. I will need to speak with Prowl and the rest of Autobot High Command. We cannot release you yet, though I have a feeling that you will convince everyone else of your sincerity if asked to speak to the officers as well. I will return after convening an emergency meeting.”

Cyclonus nodded solemnly. “I would expect nothing less from you and your people. Although I cannot advise taking too long. Now that Unicron is destroyed the Quintesson will start hunting for all of us in ernest. They consider us stolen property that they wish to collect with prejudice, we just so happened to steal ourselves in this case.”

Optimus Prime visibly shivered at his words. He couldn’t blame him, no one wished to experience the desolation the Quintessons wished to visit upon them. He nodded before he left Cyclonus to his thoughts again.

What he really wanted to do now was run through several katas. He could meditate sitting still but he often found it more healing to slip into the meditative movement of battleflow. His body carrying him through the swirls of his mind, curving and curling through each parry and sweep of his swords. He couldn’t do that here, he didn’t need swords to, hand to hand katas were satisfying as well, but he didn’t want to come off aggressively to the Autobots. They were more prone to trust his sincerity if he made himself vulnerable. It wasn’t something he had to fake, his resolve was iron through and through but he was still incredibly shaken. He had felt less uncertain the day he was reborn than he did this day.

Cyclonus fought his unease and instead slipped into the darkness, down through the layers of the conscious world and into the Well. He had always been able to come here. It was the all encompassing love and acceptance of the void. The beautiful darkness of the becoming between things. A revealing curtain, a placid lake, a starless sky. He could sink into it like a cool river of oil up to his chin, floating in the liminal pool.

Here all the answers seemed meaningless, all his suffering and turmoil small. The Well held him, like it held all things, dreamily and with detached fondness. To be accepted, flawed as he was, unconditionally was the greatest peace. Here he was at once whole again. Cyclonus tried never to stay there in that state for too long, it would be too tempting to slip into another existence, to fade from this one. Yet he was still needed in this one, somehow still of value.

He must have been pushing his limits because Optimus Prime shook him online violently. When Cylconus focused his optics the first thing he saw was wide blue ones looking at him in alarm. The Prime almost whispered to him as he spoke. “Where were you? Your spark it was...I have never felt anyone’s so small and far off without them slipping away into the Allspark.”

Cyclonus pulled out of his grip carefully and met those concerned optics with a placid face. “When I die, I will not go to the Allspark, but to the Well. The warm eternal light of all spirits doesn’t wait for me. Instead I will be unmade, all of me becoming everything and nothing once again. That is where I went. It brings be momentary solace to be reminded of my insignificance and my singular value. To be accepted for all that I am, my successes and my failures. Especially now.”

He normally wouldn’t have said anything about it, the Prime being the living embodiment of the religion of The Thirteen and Primus. This time though he was trying to be radically honest in hopes of convincing Optimus Prime and his Autobots to join his side.

The Prime’s Matrix blue optics glowed a bright almost white as they stared into his dark maroon ones. He felt the brush of something larger than himself push up against his spark and he let it wash over him without fighting it. Primus had already seen him in the belly of Unicron, let him see him again. He held no fear of a God that wasn’t his. Cyclonus could only be accepted by the Well now. Anyone else’s judgement, even a God’s, paled in comparison.

Optimus was actually the first to look away, his field laced with exhaustion as he sighed. “I came here to bring you with me back to the officer’s meeting. As long as you continue to tell the truth I will support you. Let’s go.”

Cyclonus rose to his feet and did not sway even though his sensor net complained with a series of angry red pop ups in his HUD. He followed Optimus out the door and was flanked on either side by Ironhide and Sideswipe. He could feel them glaring angry holes through the back of his head so he simply looked forward at Optimus Prime’s expansive red back as they moved swiftly through the halls.

He wasn’t planning an escape but he made a mental note of all the egress points they passed as they walked through the Autobot base. Slowly piecing together an internal map as he tried to match it to what he had gleaned from Decepticon intelligence. While on the _Nemesis_ he hadn’t been privy to the whole network but one of the things he was most keen to learn were the layouts of potential conflict locations. Mapping the terrain of various battlefields had always been vital and relaxing for him. Plotting out various methods of moving through space soothed something inside his spark. It was why he meditated better while fighting.

They approached a large bright yellow door and Optimus Prime opened it, the panel shifting aside into the wall, to view his command staff sitting around a large dark orange table. He was not an artist but even he knew the colors on the Autobot base clashed. He could forgive the distinct lack of purple though, as he was trying to befriend them.

Optimus Prime moved to the head of the table and Sideswipe grabbed Cyclonus’s shoulder pauldron roughly and shoved him down in a seat at the end of the table, Ironhide sat in a chair between him and the door. His cannon trained on his chest and Sideswipe sitting pointedly on his other side.

Cyclonus expected no less, his field tight but neutral at their obvious distrust. Everyone in the meeting turned then to look at him and he didn’t dare move. Any show of movement, even if it was just a flickering in his field, would be considered a threat. He had to be as still and as unthreatening as the small gray rocks that made up the mountains that surrounded the crashed autobot base. Even though the mountain they currently resided in was actually a volcano...fitting.

The Prime clasped his hands on top of the table and addressed him seriously. “Cyclonus, I have explained to my team in detail what you have told me but they have doubts, and a great many questions. Answer them truthfully and we can come to some sort of accord but lie and you’ll be headed right back to the brig.”

Several Autobots flashed dangerous grins at him after Optimus Prime said that. Cyclonus simply inclined his head in silent acquiescence and waited.

It was Prowl who asked him the first question. “Explain your reasoning for believing the Quintesson are headed for Earth as we speak. I have found no evidence of their passing through related space, no organic life signs have pinged our outer system sensors.”

Cyclonus stared at him gravely. “If you had picked them up on your long range sensors already it would already be too late. I warn of an imminent threat, not an immediate one. Unicron was the Destroyer, the Unmaker, only he could remake our people and our world into a force that could withstand an invasion from the Quintesson Empire. At least, he could have done so to Megatron and his Decepticons. Unicron’s glorious future battle did not acknowledge Autobots as anything more than a liability.”

“Without Unicron’s transformation all of you will be susceptible to the Quintesson’s slave coding. They will use you against your will to spread their influence across the known universe, they will make you kill organics, perhaps all the people of this very planet. They will make you rape each other, to breed new warriors for their never ending conquest. They will make you wish you had died a thousand different ways and keep you alive for their own twisted grotesqueries. This is not a force you can fight without uniting all our peoples. To attempt to do so would be to damn yourselves to several million years of unimaginable torture.”

Everyone was silent after that for a long time. Most of the Autobots were completely still, their optics focused inward in horror. 

It was Optimus Prime’s third in command, the Spec-Ops saboteur Jazz, who spoke first. “You keep referring to the Decepticons as Megatron’s people and the Autobots as Optimus’s, what about you mech? Who are your people?”

Everyone in the room looked at Jazz stunned, including Cyclonus. He didn’t know. All of them were his now and yet his true people, the ones he was made to live and die for, would now never come to be.

It was a new grief and he set it aside to mourn later, he would answer as truthfully as he could. “My people are dead, or more accurately will never be born, I am born of Unicron, both the first and last of him and shall be singular for the rest of time. To answer your question in full fidelity though, I will say I have decided to make all Cybertronians my people. It is with Decepticons, Autobots, and Neutrals in mind that I ask you to try and unite under one banner, one cause, as one people.”

All those stares drifted to him now and he could feel the weight of their scrutiny like a lead blanket wrapped heavily around his shoulders. He did not buckle under it.

Jazz whistled low. “You could give Optimus a run for his money in the moving speech department there Cyc. Look, if I’ve learned anything over the course of this war it’s to trust my instincts. They’re telling me you’re on the level and that we should listen. What about you Prowler? What does your tac-net think?”

Prowl scowled at him but then appeared to listen to something before nodding and addressing the table. “Based on reliable intel from our own databases and archives I can say with a 78% accuracy that Cyclonus is telling the truth about the Quintesson threat. They created us to serve them, it makes perfect sense they would program us with coding to subdue us in the event of a rebellion.”

Prowl looked more uncomfortable but continued. “Furthermore such things were done by our own people before the war. Shadowplay and assorted coding hacks used to subdue...sedition. It was one of the things that united the Decepticons cohesively against the Senate and the former Prime.”

Now everyone looked uncomfortable even Optimus Prime, it was Ratchet who chimed in next. “If it’s in our base coding it’s going to hard to alter without radically damaging certain processing centers. Maybe Wheeljack could work on a sub-system or workaround to block the coding from activating if we can’t outright delete it. I don’t suppose Unicron told you how he intended to alter the Decepticons to be resistant to it did he?”

He asked the last part to Cyclonus. He had no idea of the nature of the change but something flashed in his memory files, a conversation he had overhead while on the _Nemesis_.

He inclined his head towards Ratchet apologetically. “I am sorry to say he did not. I might not have even understood it had he done so. But I do remember something that I overheard while serving on the _Nemesis_. The Combaticons were discussing Soundwave in the officer’s mess and they mentioned that a Senator Ratbat had once used shadowplay to control Soundwave like a slave but he had broken out of it.”

“Whatever was done to him he cured himself and then went on to become a founding member of the Decepticon movement. I can’t help but to feel that is important and that it would be wise to seek his aid sooner rather than later.”

All the bots around the table looked at each other uneasily at his admission. Wheeljack, who appeared to be using his figures to count off possibilities in his head spoke up. “I know a mnemosurgeon as well that might be able to help. If I had more data on how to break such a hold without damaging core processes I could definitely make a work around or even a patch.”

Everyone relaxed a little at that. Optimus Prime’s gaze fell on him heavily as Cyclonus turned fully to face him. “That is one of the most important hurdles, but not the first one we must clear. We must first strike a ceasefire and an accord with the Decepticons.”

All the bots around the table went rigid as he continued. “It will not be easy and we must be prepared to concede some of our positions to do so but I do not think Megatron is a fool. Once he understands the gravity of what we face I believe he too will seek to align with us.”

That was...interesting.

He knew Megatron respected Optimus Prime almost as much as he loathed him but in Cyclonus’s short life so far he had realized that loathing was the mirror of loving. Both of them were an obsession of a sort. You couldn’t loathe someone if you didn’t care about them on some level. The same could be said for love.

It seemed like Megatron’s regard for the Prime was not entirely one-sided. Another plan, another path, started to form like lightning forking and sizzling through his lines. Yes, there was something here, something important, that he could use. He would have to tread lightly, oh so carefully, but he knew that he could use this to cement the two sides into a cohesive whole. 

Ironhide spoke from over his shoulder and Cyclonus had to fight not to jump at his gruff voice. “An’ how do you figgure you two’ll split command? Yah know as well as I do Prime that he will do everything he can think of to be the one steering tha’ ship. He’s a crafty glitch too, it’s not that I don’t trust yah to hold yer own, only that it’ll be difficult with all o’ the other slag yer gonna need to be doin’.”

He made a valid point. Cyclonus had worried over the same problem since he first realized the factions must make some sort of peace in order to defeat the Quintessons.

It was Prowl who provided an interesting solution. “Cyclonus himself noted that he is a neutral party. Yes, yes I know he is quite literally glowing Decepticon purple but according to my tac-net’s available data there is a 3% chance he would ever act selfishly instead of doing what he believed was best for all Cybertronians. Optimus doesn’t even have that low a rating at 9% and he is quite selfless as you all well know.”

“My proposal is that the united factions be ruled by committee. Optimus for the Autobots, Megatron for the Decepticons, and Cyclonus acting as the tie breaker speaking on behalf of all peoples. We will of course also have to combine command structures and form smaller committees of a similar structure in our own branches. But I believe this might have the highest chance of anything working coming in at 58% success within given data parameters.”

It was so quiet in the room after that you could have heard optics shutter. No one dared vent yet.

Optimus broke the eventual silence. “I agree. I believe Prowl’s suggestion to be the best way to present this to Megatron. If I know him, which I believe I do, he will think that he can sway Cyclonus to his side more than I would be able to do because of Cyclonus’s previous Decepticon allegiance. As long as that isn’t the case then we should be on relatively equal footing. This will not surprise Megatron for long but I believe that we can find ways to balance out his thirst for absolute control when it comes down to it.”

Once again Cyclonus nodded thoughtfully. “It is as you say. I will not put my affinity for the Decepticon cause before the wellbeing of our combined people. This will not please Megatron but I can handle that, and if not I will then enlist your assistance.”

Optimus Prime had his battlemask up, though Cyclonus was somehow quite certain he was smiling behind it. Everyone else in the room seemed much less convinced. Except perhaps Prowl. Cyclonus wouldn’t yet call him an ally but his tac-net seemed to be functioning optimally in that it had come to the same conclusions he had about their current predicament.

Optimus Prime addressed the gathered command staff, tone placating. “I understand your valid concerns, the problem is we don’t have nearly enough time to mend a 4 million year schism on our own. I believe we should accept Cyclonus’s help as an honest good faith offer and act from there accordingly. Now I’m not proposing he be given free reign of the base and access to all our archives and systems, but we can’t keep him locked in the brig anymore. Red Alert, can you see about assigning him quarters and light duty with a chaperone?”

That last part did surprise him. It seemed to shock Red Alert as well as he sputtered. “What!? He’s a Decepticon er, Unicronian? Don’t you think we should be more cautious in light of all of that?”

Once again he found Prowl on his side as he spoke levelly. “He will of course be allowed only restricted movement around base with a chaperone at all times. Optimus is right though, he is no longer a prisoner but a new ally. We should treat him the same way we did when he aligned ourselves with the humans of NEST.”

Both Ironhide and Sideswipe stiffened at that. Cyclonus was curious as to why. Before he could find out Optimus Prime dismissed the meeting. He remained seated until it was just the Prime, Ironhide, and Sideswipe left with him.

Optimus Prime looked to his soldiers and rumbled agreeably. “Ironhide, Sideswipe I will take the first shift as his guard, you are dismissed but are to remain on standby. He and I need to discuss some things.”

Sideswipe opened his mouth to argue, Ironhide stopped him with a heavy hand on his shoulder and firm negative head shake before they both left the room. Optimus gestured for Cyclonus to rise and follow him. When they exited the room he led him down the corridor to the lyft at the end of the hallway.

They took it in silence, although he could feel Optimus Prime’s optics sizing him up again he kept his gaze shuttered and staring at the elevator doors. They exited onto the same floor as the command deck of _The Ark_ and then kept going to a hallway that was slightly dim and crumpled from where the ship was lodged into the volcano. Through an arch and a half broken door they exited into the open air. It was a sort of hastily constructed observation deck.

He gazed up at the sky and stopped in wonder.

It was raining, H2O, water. Yet he could see every star above him in the cloudless night sky. He knew about the weather and precipitation, he had been on Earth for almost half a year now on the _Nemesis_ deep under the planet’s oceans. So he understood this shouldn’t be possible and yet it was happening. He lifted his still cuffed hands and let the water sluice down them before stepping into the steady wet midst of it, optics still enamored with the star filled sky.

He turned at the red movement to his left as Optimus Prime leaned in and gently unlocked the stasis cuffs from his wrists. His voice was contemplative as he stared at Cyclonus. “With the way you speak and carry yourself I sometimes forget how young you are. We are near a waterfall, the mist is from the force of the water hitting the pool below us.”

He was right. Behind the Prime was a stream of running thundering water making a low hum of ozone in the air around him. Cyclonus flexed his wrists and then lowered them to his sides before walking towards the twisted railing of the observation deck.

He looked up at the sky, his sensors telling him he was looking at the Seven Sisters, the Pleiades. They glowed an incandescent blue, ringed with milky white dust among a sea of similarly dazzling lights.

He didn’t look at Optimus Prime as he spoke. “My spark is just as old as yours Prime, it is my body and memories that are so very new. Unicron could not truly create, only remake what already was. I was born on Chaar 4 million years ago. I remember little of that existence except gnawing hunger and desperate toil. My original alt-mode was a mining drill as I was an energon miner. Even Megatron doesn’t know that fact, not that I think it would endear me to him.”

Optimus Prime sighed deeply as he moved to stand next to Cyclonus, looking at the raging water instead of the sky. “Megatron is stubborn and mercurial. Sometimes I feel like I know exactly what he’ll say or do before he does, other times I haven’t the first idea. If we had time to do this properly I’d want to speak to him about...all the things that lay between us. But we simply don’t have the time.”

That caught Cyclonus’s attention. What exactly was he referring to? The more knowledge he had about both the Prime and Megatron the better.

Before he could second guess the impulse he began to speak of Megatron to him. “He respects you, you know. He hates your cause, your history, your Autobots, but as an individual mechanism he acknowledges you have merit. The way he speaks of you is as an equal. That is something that can be built upon.”

“You obviously don’t hate him, you’re too tired for hatred. It is important to remember that he will push you, any weakness or crack he will dig his fingers into and pull at you. Trying to get you to hate him, it’s easier for him to justify what he feels he must do if you are an object of loathing. At his core though he is a pragmatist. Acknowledge that and you will be able to work with him.”

Optimus Prime was staring at him with those wide burning blue optics again and he felt more than a little exposed. He was trying to be honestly vulnerable even though everything in his coding was telling him to manipulate, to obfuscate and misdirect. To deceive. This situation called for a gentle nudge though. Something he was capable of, unlike many of the Decepticon’s he had thus far met. Soundwave and even sometimes Starscream were the exceptions. He suspected Megatron was often brutally honest as well, just never to the point of vulnerability. He couldn’t afford to be.

The Prime shook his blue head as if to clear it. “I find myself wondering what would have happened if you had joined the Deception cause several million years ago instead of several months ago.”

Cyclonus didn’t miss a beat, his mouth quirked up a little at the corner as he looked at the Prime askance. “You would have lost. This war would not have been allowed to limp along for millions of years.”

He seemed taken aback at that and Cyclonus couldn’t keep the tinge of amusement from his closely kept field.

Optimus Prime was near enough to feel it though and he retracted his battlemask to smile at Cyclonus who couldn’t look away from his suddenly revealed, rather handsome face. “I’ll have to ask you some day how you would have managed that. Not that I don’t think you could have, I’m just interested in hearing the details.”

He felt his field bump up against his playfully and he almost jumped at the sudden contact. Instead he raised a brow ridge at the Prime as he spoke matter-of-factly. “I see. Perhaps you’d be interested in a game of Severance sometime then? Tactical simulations are useful but I find playing a strategy game against a living opponent much more illuminating.”

Again he had surprised the Prime, this time though Cyclonus could see it as his mouth formed a slight ‘o.’ It was more distracting than it should have been. How beautifully open and expressive this mechanism’s face was. Cyclonus belatedly realized that was probably why he wore his battlemask all the time.

After his shock dissipated he smiled at him again and this time it was rueful. “I used to play with Ratchet back before _The Ark_ crashed. He’s a pit spawned cheater though, so fair warning I might have picked up some unsportsmanlike habits from him.”

Cyclonus laughed. The last time he had done so was during battle, the adrenaline and hum of fighting bubbling up inside him. This was a different sort of laughter.

He did grin at the Prime now. “Come now Optimus Prime you know as well as I do that there’s no such thing as cheating in Severance. As long as your opponent cannot prove you are doing it any move is fair as long as you execute it properly.”

Optimus Prime snorted at that and waved a hand at him. “You obviously haven’t played Ratchet. Also it’s Optimus. You can just call me Optimus.”

Ah.

Were they friends of a sort now? Good acquaintances perhaps? Cyclonus had never had a friend, at least not one he could remember. Even while on the _Nemesis_ he wouldn’t have called any of his fellow soldiers his friends.

He would have to go carefully. Friendships could be important, he knew, but also dangerous to impartiality. And he was going to try and be as impartial as possible. Which went against his nature implicitly being built to serve Unicron’s and Galvatron’s cause.

Now he had neither to serve he would have to find something else to guide him, his own sense of right and wrong? He suspected the mechanism before him could help him in that. So he gave into the feeling of friendship. At least that was what he hoped this newfound lightness in his spark was.

He nodded at...Optimus and looked once more wistfully at the sky. Cyclonus wanted to fly, the sky, the stars, always sung to his alt-mode.

The longing leaked into his field and Optimus put a heavy hand on his shoulder, his voice a deep rumble that he felt travel through that hand. “I’m sorry. You know why we can’t let you fly around just yet. I’ve only ever done it as a passenger, so I can only imagine the freedom of it, but I do know from the Aerialbots how important flying is for a flight frame's mental wellbeing.”

Cyclonus shrugged out from under than impossibly heavy hand as he walked back towards the broken door they entered from. He turned and gazed back at Optimus expectantly before he spoke. “I know. I will not crumble to ashen pieces from being denied some time in the air, do not worry. Now why don’t you show me where I am to be kept from now on.”

  
Optimus grimaced slightly before sliding his battlemask back into place and leading Cyclonus silently back into _The Ark_.


	2. Newbuild

He hadn’t expected to be immediately made to feel welcome but he was surprised at how neutral most of the Autobots were towards him. There were suspicious twinges to the fields that they kept tucked close around themselves and angry glares passed his way but no one openly attacked him. He had been prepared for that. 

It might have been because Optimus had made it clear he was under his protection and he often accompanied Cyclonus around the base, his field large and open and friendly around both of them. That was another thing he wasn’t expecting. The Autobots could control their fields, he knew they could because they had done so in battle. Yet, for the most part, around the base they let them drift out from their plating welcomingly. Loudly broadcasting how they felt at any given moment. It was overwhelming at first but he was slowly acclimating to it. Now that he knew it wasn’t a tactic meant to intimidate him he found that he liked it. The openness was a refreshing change of pace.

At first Sideswipe and Ironhide were the only two “companions” that stayed with him as he did light duty around the approved areas of the base. They kept their fields locked in around their plating and he was never close enough to read them. He kept his own close to his frame, not up under his plating like he would on _The_ _Nemesis_ though. A compromise of sorts, guarded but not completely closed off.  

His duties mostly included moving crates from one area to another by hand or on a dolly. He could tell from the smell that some of them were full of energon. That would prove vital in the coming times as they would soon have so many more tanks to refuel. If it everything went well and according to his plans. 

He was also put to use cleaning, sometimes the walls, usually the floors. They wouldn’t let him clean the internals of any of _The_ _Ark_ ’s machinery in case he got it into his processor to sabotage them. He wouldn’t, it made no logical sense to do so, but they didn’t yet understand that it seemed. 

After a few days of this he tried not to let his boredom show. It was eating away at his processor though, no one spoke to him. Every time he tried to start some stilted conversation with Ironhide or Sideswipe they sneered at him and then pointedly ignored him. He wondered briefly if their animosity was of a more personal sort than other Autobots. He sifted through all the memories in his processor to try and find out if he had ever injured or attacked them in any of the Decepticon raids he had participated in, but he couldn’t recall any such incident. They must have grown tired of his attempts at polite conversation because by the third day of this they  had changed out with Hound and Skyfire. 

Cyclonus knew that Hound was Spec-Ops but he didn’t know as much about Skyfire, though he was apparently some sort of scientist. He did understand that Skyfire was massive and terrifyingly powerful. Hence why he had been sent to watch Cyclonus push a rotary buffer around the floor of _The Ark_. He found them more inclined to talk to him, or at least around him, as both Skyfire and Hound seemed to be friends. That’s how he learned of Skyfire’s relationship to Starscream. And wasn’t that...fascinating. 

He could use Skyfire to bridge that particularly difficult gap between the factions. Starscream never liked to cooperate, it was usually his way or utter chaos caused by him not getting his way. Megatron couldn’t control him but it seemed like Skyfire had been in a different sort of relationship with the current Decepticon SIC. A plan unfolded in a series of brightly intertwining threads in his processor, like a tapestry flowing powerfully with currents of energon and life giving electricity. He would have to be careful. The strings of this particular path were as fragile as moonbeams and whispered promises. 

There was something he needed to do first to make it work. He would have to befriend them. All of them. As many Autobots as possible. Friendship was important for trust with them, they couldn’t just take his word on his honor as a binding oath that he would follow through like any Decepticon would. They needed emotional reassurance that he had their best interests at spark. Words were not enough with Autobots. 

Which was another very interesting thing he had yet to fully parse. It made his tactical simulations glitch and mutate in frustrating and complicated ways. They were vastly different in a familiar fashion. It was like looking in the reflected surface of the water below the waterfall outside _The Ark_. Smooth in places, the visage looking back at him was the same, but in others it was distorted by the ripples of the spray, making his face no longer his.

He tried to engage Skyfire’s love of the Earth to draw him out. Both he and Hound hadn’t said more than a few clipped sentences to him on this rotation but Cyclonus had been asking them questions about the Earth. He wasn’t sure why they weren’t answering them, perhaps they thought he was trying to use the knowledge of the Earth’s biomes and processes against them somehow. He decided maybe a statement of admiration would work better.

Cyclonus paused and stopped pushing the dolly full of crates forcing the other two walking on either side of him to stop. He was in front of _The Ark’s_ windows and the sun was peeking out from in between a sea of towering clouds. Cumulonimbus, he had learned their names when he had first discovered Earth had weather. Important information for a flight frame that would have to be traveling through the planet’s atmosphere regularly. 

He felt their suspicious optics on him as he gestured out the window. “Chaar didn’t have an atmosphere, not that I remember being allowed out of the mines to see the sky at any rate. But it is beautiful here. Do you mind if we stop for a moment to admire it?”

That seemed to catch Skyfire off-guard as his bright blue optics went wide. Hound on the other hand became more suspicious than he had been previously, he crossed his arms. “What are you planning? Going to send some sort of long range comm as one of your spy satellites passes by this time of day or something?”

Cyclonus raised a brow ridge at that. He didn’t know if the Decepticons even had satellites in Earth’s atmosphere at this point. That was Soundwave and Spec-Op’s domain, not his. Not that he was even a Decepticon anymore. Or had ever really been one. He didn’t know what he was now. That was part of the problem. The Autobots didn’t seem to know what to do with him because they were forced to parse him as both simultaneously an enemy and an ally in their processors.

He would have to respond thoughtfully. That whole issue of classification was one that was owed a great deal of careful consideration. He cleared his intake and addressed them both. “I am not a Decepticon, truthfully I never was one, our causes were simply more aligned than mine was with the Autobot’s. If it helps you to classify me as Unicronian, the only one, the last one, then you may do so. I am not trying to undermine you or trick you, I am simply trying to find common cause for conversation amongst you because I am bored.”

That startled at laugh out of Skyfire and Hound looked at him accusingly. The much bigger white and red shuttle shrugged at him and then turned to smile down at Cyclonus. “Alright. Hound there’s no harm in talking to him, especially just about _the weather_ of all things. It is beautiful here, I love it, I’ve always loved it. Everything on this planet is so alive, even the air. There’s nothing wrong in appreciating all life, right Hound?”

Skyfire elbowed him and Hound rocked slightly to the side and grumbled before glaring at Cyclonus. “Decepticon, Unicronian, doesn’t matter. You were on the side bombing our side and planning on killing all the life you just called ‘beautiful’ on this planet. You want us to believe you’ve changed, or that you’re different from the rest, but so far I have yet to see any proof this isn’t just some scheme to take us down from the inside. So keep your musings to yourself and just do your damn job like the rest of us if you want to fit in so badly.”

Skyfire looked at Cyclonus apologetically and that was enough for today. 

He needed to win them over quickly but he could tell he was on the edge of their tolerance, especially Hound’s. So instead he bowed respectfully and resumed pushing the dolly to the storage room further down the corridor. 

After his duty shift they escorted him back to his room and locked the door after him. He sat down on his small bare berth and sighed. Cyclonus was about to drop into meditation when he was startled by a ping. 

It was curiously coming over the intercom in his hab. He answered it and Skyfire’s voice came cheerfully out over the speakers. “Hound’s right, we can’t trust you just yet to be who you say your are, but that doesn’t mean I’m not sympathetic. Before you showed up I was the odd duck out around here. And I’m always interested in discussing Earth’s many biological systems. Even ducks! Maybe the next time we’re on shift together we can talk about the cycle of H2O through the atmosphere here that creates those towering clouds you saw out the window.”

Cyclonus wasn’t sure if he was expected to answer, he did nonetheless. “Thank you. I understand your caution, it is prudent and if I was in your place I would do the same. Your kindness and willingness to converse with me is much appreciated as the only mechanism I’ve had a real conversation with since arriving here has been Optimus.”

Skyfire’s voice was warm and slightly mischievous in his response. “Yes he’s like that with everyone it seems. Well that’s good to know at least, that even the big bad Unicronian isn’t immune to Optimus’s charm.”

Was that what it was? The magnetism that seemed to draw all of them to Optimus was like a beacon through the foggy darkness. There he was making weather metaphors now that there was weather around to be referenced. He truly was starting to assimilate.

They were having an open conversation so he was going to be honest with him. “He’s a good listener. I think it might have something to do with the Matrix of Leadership but he exudes the electromagnetic field of someone who can help. Not just that he wants to help but that he can. That he has the power to solve all ills if given enough time and a proper chance.”

Skyfire made a thoughtful noise before he spoke. “Huh. Yeah that sounds right. I’ve never thought about it quite that way though. I’ll have to ask Ratchet for his notes on the Matrix to see if that is one of the documented effects of it. Anyway it was surprisingly nice talking to you Cyclonus. I’ll see you later, I think the next shift is gonna be Jazz and Sunstreaker, mostly cause Hound thinks you’re up to something still and Jazz will want to ‘merrily interrogate’ you.”

Hm. Skyfire didn’t have to warn him about that and yet he had. Were they friends now? That was so fast. Autobots were still very strange to him, he was going to have to adapt, quickly. 

Cyclonus was solemn. “Thank you for the fair warning Skyfire. I found it pleasant conversing with you as well, I would like to do so again soon.”

Skyfire sent him and affirmative ping and then he was gone ,leaving Cyclonus alone once again to ponder the strangeness of Autobot acquaintance and friendship. He wasn’t given much chance to though, a short while later there was a loud knock at his habsuite door. 

There was only one bot who did that, all the others just opened the door, or in the case of Skyfire pinged him. He smiled and called out for him to come in. 

Optimus entered looking slightly apologetic with his shoulders slumped. “I believe I owe you an apology. After speaking with my soldiers, specifically Skyfire and Hound, it’s become clear to me that we’ve been treating you more like a prisoner than a guest. Would you allow me to escort you to the mess so we can speak at length? I know now is usually when you’re brought your energon ration. Another thing that is making it look more like you’re a captive here rather than a guest, my apologies.”

He seemed slightly flustered at the realization and Cyclonus couldn’t help but smile. Optimus had nothing to be sorry for and he intended to tell him so...after they had refueled together in the mess. Cyclonus nodded and got up to follow him out of his room and down the hallway. 

The Autobot’s mess hall was mostly empty as it was several hours after when the rest of the crew usually ate. Cyclonus had been keeping careful track of the shifts, on and off, out of habit. It was prudent to observe everything regardless of what he had planned for the future. 

He didn’t immediately recognize the two bots who fled the mess as he and Optimus entered. He gestured for him to sit as he moved to the energon dispensers at the far end of the room. The whole room was various shades of gold and orange, the tables a slightly faded white. If he was able to get the factions to unite he was going to have to get at least a little spot black into their design sensibilities. If not some regally tasteful purple. 

Optimus returned with two glowing pink cubes of energon and placed one in front of him. Cyclonus waited for him to sit down and retract his battlemask before he sipped his own cube. 

They ate in silence until Cyclonus drained his cube.

Optimus put down his own half-empty cube to address him.”I am sorry Cyclonus. You are a bot just like any other, just like all of us. And because of that you need interaction, entertainment, conversation, something to engage your processor. I imagine it must be stressful to be here and to be shunned. I have made it clear to my officers that if you initiate conversation they should at least attempt to reciprocate.”

Cyclonus quirked a rueful smile at that. He could imagine exactly the sort of things would be said to him if he tried to ‘initiate conversation' with anyone other than Skyfire right now. 

Cyclonus ex-vented silently. “While I appreciate the effort and the apology I’m afraid they are both unnecessary. Your fellow Autobots will like me even less if they are being commanded to speak to me. I’ll make their acquaintance, or not, at my own speed. What I could actually benefit from is a good book. The library on _The Nemesis_ was depressingly sparse and I’m curious about Earth literature as well. I understand you cannot allow me a datapad with a connection to the ship’s systems or the Earthen internet but surely a few datapads of books would be permissible?”

Several different expressions crossed Optimus’s face in sharp succession. Cyclonus could only catch shock, shame, and delight. The others were a mystery to him. His field was a flurry of delighted excitement though, as it pulsed around the two of them.

Optimus took another drink from his cube of energon and leaned towards him across the table. “I am now dying to know what kind of books there even are on _The Nemesis_. Don’t tell me, they’re all Megatron’s manifestos and ancient epic war poetry. I can get you some from our collection, I have my own little stack of them back in my hab if you don’t like anything from our library. We also have access to human ‘ebooks.’ What are you interested in reading?”

Cyclonus smiled genuinely at that and let his much smaller retracted field pulse with pleasure. “Oh Megatron’s manifestos are definitely there, some of his poetry as well. I prefer that truthfully. It was less high-handed and more honest in its execution. Although his way with words is compelling regardless of context, as you well know. But no, most of the library there is what the seekers brought with them from Vos. A lot of treatises on interior and architectural design for flightframes. Skywarp’s rather impressive personal collection of romance novels, and several small books on energon refinement that I suspect Dirge might have been using to build his own high-grade still.”

Optimus was overjoyed at this new information as he gestured animatedly at Cyclonus, his field a contented fluttering thing. “No! Did you read all of Skywarp’s collection then? If that’s what you’re interested in I can ask Bumblebee, he’s been stockpiling human romance novels since our collection from Cybertron is rather sparse. As for the rest of it, that doesn’t sound uninteresting per say just, hm, boring isn't the right word, dry?”

Cyclonus snorted and couldn’t stop the small smile that quirked the corner his mouth up, his field also betrayed his amusement. “I read everything there twice over in my half a year with them, some of the datapads were much more engaging than others. As for what I like to read: I’d take more poetry, philosophy, autobiographies, and some human genre novels. I’m curious to see what they imagined aliens were like before they met us.”

Optimus bit his lip in thought at that. “‘ _The simplest truth about man is that he is a very strange being; almost in the sense of being a stranger on the Earth. In all sobriety, he has much more of the external appearance of one bringing alien habits from another land than of a mere growth of this one._ ’ From _The Everlasting Man_ by G.K. Chesterton.”

Cyclonus nodded. “Yes, I’d like to read that one. Also if you have poetry from the Golden Age, anything by Elucidspring or Diodice. I find Inverted Umbra’s prose exquisite as well but her work was almost entirely destroyed during the clampdown purges.”

Optimus frowned slightly at that. “I have never read her writing, it was deemed too seditious and obscene for popular consumption by the time I was forged. How do you know of it? Do you remember it from before your rebirth or did you hear about it while on _The Nemesis_? I might know someone here who would have some copies as he has been frozen in ice since before the war.”

Cyclonus stopped for a beat, he couldn’t actually remember where he had read her words before, or when. Perplexed he let her poetry fall from his lips as the only answer he could grasp. 

_The light that touches what it cannot grasp, fingers of longing,_

_illuminating the planes of your plating like the spilling of the suns over the Hyperion peaks._

_Motes of dust dance overlong with memories of your welcoming warmth_

_I watch you stir in the rise and swell of the morning._

_Powerful, transcendent_

_vulnerable_

_We are two who became one,_

_Plummeted together deep down_

_tangled up the nets of our desire in molten silver heat_

_Peace, not the sum of our wholeness_

_I gasp_

_I feel it when I lay next to you._

_Here in the quiet the mourning of our love I know no other joys,_

_no other other rapture_

_than your sleep soaked smile as you open your eyes to greet me._

_I am slain._

Cyclonus had been gazing off into the space to his left as he tried to remember the piece of poetry correctly but his optics snapped to Optimus’s flushed face after he finished. He felt the spike of unfamiliar heat in his field before Optimus could suppress it, his optics were wide and his mouth a shocked gape. 

He had just recited some banned, more than a little explicit, love poetry to Optimus Prime. Realizing his misstep it was Cyclonus’s turn to blush. He opened his mouth to apologize but Optimus cut him off.

He was still flushed and Cyclonus found himself unable to look away from his open face, his field still light and playful wrapped around the two of them. “That was beautiful. Do you know any more? I can see why a Prime like Nominus had her work purged but that was only one of his travesties. Many of the things that were allowed to happen before the war were abhorrent. We’ve...we’ve all lost so much already.”

Cyclonus’s spark clenched painfully in his chest. He had. They all had. He wouldn’t let them lose anymore. He swallowed hard and let his field reach out from his body tentatively and offered his hand across the table. It was a risk, he knew it was, but wanted to show him he was sincere. Autobot’s tended to appreciate gestures as well as words. 

Optimus stared at it blankly before he frowned and grasped it lightly. Cyclonus threaded their fingers together and raised their hands between them as he spoke quietly, his field a solid hum of soothing energy in front of him. “I swear on my spark to you that I will do everything in my power to prevent any further losses. Of both our culture and our people, you have my word. Which may not mean much to you as an Autobot but as a child of Unicron my oath is binding for me.”

Optimus looked back and forth between their joined hands and his face, his field rippling with confusion, before nodding slightly. “What do you mean by that? That I won’t take your word as an Autobot?”

Cyclonus ex-vented and brushed his thumb over the top of his knuckles absently, trying to gather exactly how to say what needed to be said. “When a Decepticon, or in my case a Unicronian, gives you their word it is unbreakable. It’s why we often try to prevaricate, and yes deceive, our way out of giving our oaths. Because once they are given they are eternal, even death does not absolve us of our duty.”

Optimus looked as if he had just shot him through the spark, his face a rictus of pain and sudden horror. His field was now chaotic and unsure, it suddenly slammed back in close around his large red and blue frame. “Oh. Is that the case for all Decepticons, even Megatron?”

Cyclonus was starting to see where this was going and he didn’t like it. He squeezed his hand harder, let his field reflect his reassurances. “Yes, most especially Megatron. He has sworn he will not stop, will not surrender, until all his people are free and can return home to a liberated Cybertron. It was the first and last oath he swore to his faction. It is why this armistice will be very difficult to negotiate.”

Optimus visibly shuddered as he pulled hand away and stood abruptly. “There are some things I need to take care of immediately then. We’ve...we’ve all made some serious mistakes in how we approached the Decepticons. Thank you for telling me this, you didn’t have to, and I won’t forget about the books. I’ll have Skyfire bring you some before your shift in the morning. Goodnight Cyclonus.”

He barely had a chance to say goodnight in return before Optimus rushed from the mess. 

He stood and realized he was alone, outside his hab, for the first time since coming here. Cyclonus had no illusions as to whether he was being watched though, he knew Red Alert must have at least twelve different cameras pointed at his location right now. So he walked through the halls, making the direct path back to his hab and entered it. As soon as he did, he heard the lock click into place. He’d continue to act trustworthy no matter if they trusted him or not. 

The next morning Skyfire did indeed come by with a stack of datapads. After Cyclonus stored them away he was surprised to find that Skyfire wanted him to accompany him to the mess for morning refuel. 

At his surprised expression Skyfire explained. “Optimus had an emergency briefing for command staff last night and it’s still going. Hound is there and so is Ironhide and Sides. I’m supposed to refuel and bring you with me when I return to the briefing as it chiefly concerns something you told him last night about the Decepticons.”

Skyfire quirked a brow ridge at that last bit and Cyclonus found himself rapidly changing the subject. “Optimus mentioned something to me last night about your interest in literature. He said you might have some of the writings of Inverted Umbra, even though the government ordered most of them destroyed.”

Skyfire’s brow ridge rose even higher as he steered Cyclonus to sit on one of the off-white benches in the mess. “Oh? Optimus told me I should give you everything I had in my databanks on Golden Age poetry and prose but he didn’t mention her by name. I didn’t include the few pieces of hers I have because...of their nature...but I’d be happy to send them to you after we return from the briefing. They’re beautiful. All her work is. And tragic. You know her story right?”

Cyclonus found he didn’t. He knew of her, scraps of her work that were just floating through his processor, had struck him and stayed with him like little bursts of static electricity. 

Skyfire returned with two glowing pink cubes and Cyclonus scowled down at his as he spoke. “I actually don’t know where or when I first read her work. I...it’s just there, in small pieces, like fragments of pretty, useless glass. I have no context for it, which is more than a little disconcerting.”

Skyfire was looking at him with clinical scrutiny now. “Remind me to ask you to explain in specific detail everything you remember about your reforging inside Unicron later. As for Umbra, well she was the consort of Nova Prime and the first Lord High Protector Onyx. After they united the 13 tribes and forged the first modern cities in Cybertron Nova wanted to expand across the universe, colonialism. _Pax Cybertronia,_ his legacy was to be his empire. Onyx was on board at first but Umbra thought it was wrong, that if they were to interact with organics they couldn’t treat them as lessers, subsume their cultures and their worlds under a technocracy.'

‘She brought Onyx over to her side but Nova wouldn’t be swayed. He also didn’t like his conjunxes conspiring against him. Or at least appearing to. He had Inverted Umbra exiled and Onyx executed. The records are vague about what happened to her after that. Nova Prime disappeared among the stars on the first _Ark_. Romantic tales say she took her own life at the same time Nova’s sword severed Onyx’s head from his shoulders. Insinuating that the bot she had loved in Nova had died a long time ago and without Onyx she had nothing to live for. But no one really knows.”

Cyclonus felt ill, the cube of energon in front of him seemed revolting now. Skyfire watched him stare at his cube before he sighed. “I suppose that wasn’t actually good mealtime conversation. Starscream used to chastise me for not considering whether or not any of my tangents were actually appropriate for the given setting or gathered company. Er..well if you’re not gonna refuel we should head to the meeting, but why don’t you subspace it just incase you get hungry later.”

He was smiling at him goodnaturedly, his field like the warm light of the Terran sun as it bumped up against his own. Cyclonus did as he was told. He was numb. Somehow Umbra’s story felt like it had split him open again. He had just recently had to reconstruct himself after his complete and disastrous failure for Unicron and now he felt raw and disjointed again. His mission was still the most important thing, they had to unite their disparate people to oppose the incoming Quintesson fleet. If they didn’t they would all suffer a fate far worse than any death by the sword that might be waiting for him. 

There was a loud argument happening in the conference room that immediately died as soon as he and Skyfire entered. All optics turned to look at him, some curiously, most accusingly. The fields around the table were whipping up into an angry froth except for the cool drawn in fields of Optimus, and surprisingly Ratchet. 

Red Alert snapped and jabbed a thumb in Cyclonus’s direction. “The only proof we have that Decepticon’s oaths are binding is him swearing an oath that they are. Do you not grasp why that’s a problem? Also he claims he’s not even a Decepticon! We have the same amount of intel as we did before, which is scrap! We need to interrogate him properly and-”

Ratchet cut him off angrily. “No! We’ve been over this, we’re not hardline jacking him! The ethical reasons are valid enough but I’ve seen his specs firsthand on my scanners, he could easily fry whoever tries to jack in circuit’s. We’re not losing two bots to your hard headed insistence that-”

Sideswipe cut in. “It’s not hard headed! He’s a monster just like the rest of them. He was there at the NEST base in California when the Cons killed Kevin! We can’t trust anything he says, we should just offline him and be done with it! Give me the go-ahead Optimus and I’ll do it myself!”

He stood abruptly and Ironhide had to put an arm around his shoulders to hold him back from charging Cyclonus. 

Ah. 

He remembered that raid, it had ended in them burning the whole base down. He had no idea who Kevin was, probably a human by the sound of that name, but he had had a hand in all the deaths that had happened there that day. Sideswipe and Ironhide had a legitimate grievance with him then. 

If he recalled correctly Ironhide had been in command of that base as well, he probably saw all the deaths that happened there as a failure on his part. And every time he was forced to look at Cyclonus he was reminded of this fact. That would make anyone hate. He understood now. The only honorable thing he could offer them was satisfaction. He couldn’t offer them his life though he could offer them his frame. 

Cyclonus walked up to where the two of them were locked into place and lowered himself to his knees before them. “I have wronged you. You seek retribution for the loss of life of a beloved one. I cannot offer you my life as is customary. I must continue to fight for our people, but up until that point you may take your satisfaction from me. In whatever form you so choose, this I swear on my honor and my spark.”

The whole room was eerily silent, everyone field’s blank and flat. It was Ironhide who snapped out of whatever pall had fallen over them. “No. We’re not Cons. We won’t beat yah within an inch of yur life cause of yur past murder sprees.”

Sideswipe snarled and tried to fight out of his grasp but Ironhide held him fast. “No! Sides we won’t. We’re better than em'!”

It was Optimus who put an end to the whole spectacle. “Ironhide is wrong. We’re not better than the Decepticons. We’ve killed them in droves, as they’ve done to us. It’s not moral superiority that separates from them but a difference in culture. Cyclonus is proof that they are capable of great empathy, in their own way, and he isn’t even a Decepticon anymore. This ends here. Any past wrongs must be laid to rest. You don’t have to forgive him, or the Decepticons, you just have to agree to move forward with them.”

Prowl stood and in rare burst of emotion he addressed Optimus loudly. “How? How are we supposed to move forward with them if we can’t forgive them? If we can’t even trust them!?”

Jazz was the one to answer placing a hand comfortingly on Prowl’s shoulder. “He’s given us a way to though hasn’t he? We have to get them to swear oaths, in plain language, that they won’t betray us the second we turn our backs on them, or the second they sense weakness. If we can get those oaths we’re golden. Right Unicron’s Right Hand Mech?”

Cyclonus rose to his feet in one elegant motion and nodded at Jazz. “It’s not going to be quite that simple to get the oaths from them but yes once you have them they will be your allies. They will do everything in their power to build in loopholes and contrivances into the contract though, because they believe your word cannot be trusted. You don’t place the same importance on it that they do so any negotiations will inherently be unequal and put them at a staggering disadvantage. Under normal circumstances they would never even try to negotiate with Autobots because you can break oaths when they can’t. It’s why Megatron has never tried to offer you a ceasefire before.”

That seemed to do the trick. All the Autobots looked sufficiently mollified, their fields quiet and small. Optimus addressed the gathered officers, although he was looking at Cyclonus when he spoke. “Then we will have to adapt. Our word must be as binding as theirs if we are going to make this work. Any oaths we make with them; whether they be personal, political, or business will be legally and societally binding to the same degree theirs are. Cyclonus can help us understand all the intricacies of their negotiations and make us aware of all the ways they will try and twist the oath to their advantage. We don’t have much practice at this but now that we know it’s how we must go about it, we have to learn, and fast.”

Red Alert made an exasperated noise as he threw his hands up. “Then we’re right back to where we started! How can we trust that everything he tells about these oaths and contracts is the truth and helping us, versus making things easier for the Cons and lying to us to protect them!?”

Optimus ex-vented then pulled himself up to his full towering height as he stood, his field unfurled like a thundercrack, the shift made everyone in the room flinch back and brace themselves. Cyclonus included. 

His voice was deep and resonant with something that rang throughout everyone’s gathered sparks. “Then I will be the one to take the first leap of faith. Cyclonus, I swear on my spark that I will do everything in my power to protect and nurture our culture and all our people; Autobot, Decepticon, Unicronian, all Cybertronians and the lives of those on our allied worlds. And on my honor I make an oath that I will only tell you the truth in these matters as best I know it myself, I will never try to deceive you or put you purposefully at a disadvantage in the negotiations between our factions. I ask that you make the same oath.”

Cyclonus stared at him as his words were returned to him from earlier, with a few notable additions. Everyone in the room was staring between the two of them incredulously. 

Cyclonus nodded once and held out his hand towards Optimus who grasped it firmly. “I will honor the words I spoke to you earlier in the mess and also I will swear on my spark not to do anything that would put you or the Autobots at a disadvantage in your negotiations with the Decepticons. I will not, however, swear never to lie or attempt to manipulate you, as both of those tactics might prove necessary in the future. They are not always as malicious as you Autobots seem to think they are. Sometimes a lie can protect, sometimes a hidden move is meant to serve rather than enslave.”

Red Alert shouted “Aha!” at his admission but didn’t have a chance to say more as Teletran 1’s soothingly neutral voice came on the speakers overhead. “Incoming hail from _The_ _Nemesis_ for Optimus Prime. Should I accept it and direct it to the viewscreen in this conference room or would you like to take it on the bridge?”

Optimus deliberated for several seconds before answering. “Cyclonus and I will take the hail on the bridge, just the two of us. I believe it will be seen by Megatron as more fair that way.”

That caused the whole room to erupt into shouting, fields flared around him like fires laced with anger and panic. Cyclonus only caught snippets of various Autobot’s arguments before Optimus bellowed for them to stop. 

He then addressed them all in that same commanding rumble he had made the oath to Cyclonus with earlier. “I have sworn a binding contract with him as he has with me. We will face Megatron on equal footing and will then return to this conference room to continue our debrief. You can all wait here until we’re finished or we will reconvene after. That is my final word on it.”

His field was like a wall of impenetrable stone blocking them in and his tone didn’t inspire anyone else to argue even though he could tell by looking at a few faces some of them still wanted to. Optimus led and he followed him down the corridor to _The_ _Ark_ ’s bridge. He had never seen it before, not as a Decepticon nor as a neutral party since being brought here. It was fully intact, unlike the rest of the ship, and it had the same gold and orange paneling he had seen elsewhere. There were communications arrays on either sides of the room and a captain’s chair and controls in the center. There were windows all along the far wall showing the dark green pine forest around them, the viewscreen was lowered in the center of them. 

Optimus came to a stop in front of the captain’s seat and gestured widely with his arm for Cyclonus to stand next to him before he turned to face him gravely. “Do you know why he’s comming us now of all times?”

Cyclonus didn’t.

He had disappeared along with Optimus from the battlefield they had been fighting on over a week ago. If Megatron had wanted to demand his safe return then he would have done so immediately, not given the Autobots over a week to interrogate him. He didn’t like the implications of Megatron taking the seemingly weaker position of making first overtures to them either. Something must be wrong. Very wrong. 

He froze. The Decepticons had long range sensors back on Cybertron, they would be able to detect the Quintesson before the Autobots would be. Unmaker save them all if that was the case.

He met Optimus’s serious look with one of his own. “Megatron would not be reaching out to demand my return so late as he would assume you would have already gotten everything you could out of me intelligence-wise. He knows you’re soft-sparked but also desperate. Ratchet is the best medic alive, you wouldn’t need my consent to take what I knew directly from my processor. The only explanation I can think of is that the Decepticon’s deep space sensors on Cybertron have picked up Quintesson activity and that Megatron has come to the same conclusion you and I have. That the only way to succeed is to unite our factions and face them together.”

Optimus shuddered visibly, whether at the implication that they would violate Cyclonus for intel or at the idea that the Quintesson threat was imminent he wasn’t sure. 

Optimus turned away from him as he spoke. “I see. I hope it’s something else but now we are prepared to face the worst. Go ahead and put _The Nemesis_ through now, thank you Teletran 1.”

The viewscreen flared to life and Megatron’s darkly scowling face filled the screen. Cyclonus recognized bridge of the Nemesis behind him, but much like the bridge on _The Ark_ it appeared to be empty. 

When he saw it was just Optimus and Cyclonus standing side by side alone in the room he raised a brow ridge. “I was about to demand you and your Autobots return my soldier to me all in one piece but it seems that won’t be necessary. You work fast Prime, I’ll give you that. As for you Cyclonus, I would have thought you would be one of the last of us to ever consider switching sides. I’m sure Autobot red will look sufficiently optic catching on you though.”

He sneered the last bit. Cyclonus didn’t flinch, he was about to correct Megatron’s assumption when Optimus did it for him. “He hasn’t switched sides so much as created his own side. But before we proceed we need to negotiate the parameters of our conversation and state intentions for negotiations of a mutual oath of unity between our factions.”

Megatron snarled and slammed his fist on the console in front of him. “You insolent jumped up little traitor! You’re there for a week and you already tell them all our secrets. Don’t tell me they know all about the intricacies of binding agreements and oaths now!”

Cyclonus kept his face perfectly neutral under his onslaught of accusations and responded levelly. “Not yet. They are now aware of the game they are playing and some of the rules, they do not have the centuries of practice and strategy your side possesses. So if you require an unfair advantage to get what you want, I suggest you act quickly. I intend to tell them everything I know about how it’s done very soon.”

Megatron grit his teeth and settled back down in throne-like chair slightly. He was seething, he was no fool though. He knew all the things Cyclonus knew about Decepticon culture and would soon share with the Autobots. He also knew time was of the essence if he wanted to try anything underhanded. Megatron could be fair and just, he simply didn’t have any reason to act that way towards the Autobots. Not yet. Cyclonus would have to give him one. 

He cleared his intake and addressed Megatron mildly. “I am curious as to why you called then, if it wasn’t to demand that the Autobots release me. Could it perhaps be because Shockwave has picked up something alarming on the deep space scanners back on Cybertron?”

Megatron froze, his face completely blank, before his expression melted into its usual scowl. “I’m not going to ask how you figured that out, though I know it’s not because the Autobots have finally cracked our transmission encryption. Prime would be looking a great deal more self-satisfied right now if that were the case. I take it then you know what the large collection of engine heat signals we detected coming from Beta Quadrant towards Cybertron at slightly slower than the speed of light are. I also take it I’m not going to like your answer.”

Optimus looked at Megatron through the screen darkly. “The Quintesson. Cyclonus has informed us they have been planning to...reclaim us for several millennia but have been prevented from doing so by the existence of Unicron. Who was destroyed last week in a gamma level explosion your sensors probably picked up out past Neptune, or Sol. 8 as you may know it. They will take Cybertron first and then will come for the rest of us. It will not be a slaughter but a capture. They intend to enslave us once more under their empire.”

Megatron threaded his hands in front of his chest so hard the knuckle joints audibly creaked over the video connection. “Well then we won’t let them. The Decepticons are more than capable of defeating them in battle. We’ve been at war for several million years, I have the utmost confidence in our scientists and engineers, that they can match them weapon for weapon.”

Optimus shook his head heavily but it was Cyclonus who responded. “Unicron was designed to reforge you, to remake the Decepticon army into a force that could defend Cybertron from the Quintesson Empire. Without the Unmaker’s gift we cannot hope to stand up to them. There is a weakness in our coding, less so in those who have become Decepticons but it is still present, that will allow the Quintesson to enslave us against our wills. We will be powerless to resist it, trapped inside our own minds while our frames are used as husks for their various disgusting purposes. They intend to breed us, use us a machines of endless war and conquest. The only way we can hope to prevent this is to unite our factions and combine all our scientific genius and military might.”

That seemed to get through to him. He pried his hands apart then gripped the arms of his chair with them while staring intensely at Cyclonus. “What can you say to convince me that you aren’t lying? That this all isn’t some sort of gambit to seize leadership of the Decepticons from me. The Prime has all but admitted you’ve set yourself up as the arbiter of this farce, making your own faction of one. What’s to stop you from betraying me even further than you already have?”

Optimus started to defend him. “He hasn’t-”

Cyclonus cut him off abruptly, meeting Megatron’s stare with an equally intense red one of his own. “I swear to you an oath of respectful servitude. Everything that I do, all that I am, all that I aspire to, will be for the good and betterment of all factions. I will never betray any confidence you give me going forward. Though I will not swear to never lie or manipulate you. But I mention that only for Optimus’s benefit as you know as well as I do that lies are sometimes all that we can do to keep the peace.”

Megatron’s optics flashed once as he leaned forward eagerly. “Interesting. Very well. You have my attention at any rate.” He then turned to Optimus and his scowl was back. “Alright Prime, you’ll have your contract negotiations and your distasteful promises. We shall meet on neutral ground, maybe that moonbase you and your ‘human allies’ have been pretending doesn’t exist on this planet’s luna 1. You have 24 Sol. hours to prepare for our arrival. I admit I am curious to see how much of a quick study you and your faction actually are.”

Optimus cringed behind his battlemask and Megatron smirked at having the last word before he switched off the video transmission. 

He turned to Cyclonus who had reached out a hand to comfort him on his shoulder. Cyclonus ex-vented deeply. “Come. We have a lot of work to do now, and precious little time.”

Optimus nodded and absently looked down to where his hand was touching his shoulder, in a show of what he hoped came off as supportive. His field was shy as it reached out for Optimus’s which had retreated in close behind his plating. Cyclonus was new to physical affection but he knew Autobots appreciated it. He was trying. 

Optimus laid his hand over his on his shoulder and squeezed it. “Yes. Thank you by the way. I don’t think I’ve said that enough, or at all really.”

Cyclonus let his mouth turn up slightly in acknowledgment. “Because you don’t need to. I am doing all of this because it needs to be done, not because I expect any sort of encouragement or reward.”

Optimus chuckled deeply and took Cyclonus’s hand off his shoulder but didn’t let go of it as he led him out of the room and down the hall. His field had that intriguing low shuddering heat from before. “You say that now but let me tell you, being a faction leader is a thankless enough position without some occasional praise. Take it where and when you can get it.”

Cyclonus found himself laughing softly as well. “I will have to remember that the next time you do something worthy of commendation so that I may make my praises count for all its rarity.”

Optimus’s blue optics glowed a fascinating shade of cobalt at that, his field shuddering in pleasure as he squeezed his hand hard before letting it go as they reached the conference room door. 

They had a great deal of debriefing and preparations to accomplish but Cyclonus couldn’t stop himself from missing the feel of that large hand wrapped warmly and reassuringly around his own. His spark ached and pounded when he thought of it. Something was wrong with him. He was going to have to meditate on in later. 

For the moment he addressed the gathered Autobots and explained to them how they would have to speak to their equals in the opposite faction in order to begin negotiations. He was suddenly very glad Skyfire had made him subspace that cube energon, it was going to be a long and exhausting 24 hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohohoho the plot thickens. I keep adding bits and intriguing world building that is gonna be fun to unravel later. Umbra, Onyx, and Nova is just one example. Unicron, Primus, the Allspark, and The Well are another. I'm playing it fast and loose with multiple cannons here and cherry picking what I like so just sit back, relax, and enjoy the show! Also Cyclonus doesn't know what wooing is yet but damn is he already pretty good at it!! 8D 
> 
> Also I wrote Umbra's poetry myself, hope it's sufficiently romantic and moving lol. I am enjoying banging this one out and next chapter is gonna be where all three of them are finally in the same room together whew! Sparks shall fly! If you want fic snippets and updates etc and just like Transformer's content follow me on Twitter I'm @ Basilbing. ;)

**Author's Note:**

> I had to write this after reading several Galvatron/Cyclonus/Optimus fics. It's a side project though so like it'll be updating erratically. I've got it planned at about 20k as of right now so you can judge how long that is gonna take etc. But I will say I love writing Cyclonus, he's elegant, mature, and also so so competent.


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